“Kids were all my husband Marc and I wanted, and it felt like everyone else had them.
And worse, like they were kind of put out about it.”
Its 6 p.m., the beginning of the dinner-bath-bedtime gauntlet for most parents.
Im upstairs in bed with a novel.
But tonight my husband is handling feeding time, and Im lying back like Cleopatra popping grapes.
What Im actually popping are giant white pills called SUTAB, in preparation for a colonoscopy in the morning.
That these pills are designed to bring on rivers of overnight diarrhea matters to me very little.
), and through the exam itself.
I slept two hours in the surgery center, then three hours once I got home.
Anesthesia: highly recommended.
It was the most rejuvenating experience Id had in years.
I have, of course, gotten a lot of mileage out of this story.
I told it to a group of moms at a birthday party, and we really got into it.
Now I want a colonoscopy!
That last one was me again, and the laughs felt good.
Is this how I feel about parenting?
Kids were all my husband Marc and I wanted, and it felt like everyone else had them.
And worse, like they were kind of put out about it.
Arent you supposed to be enjoying your kids?
asked if we planned to have children.
Marc and I couldnt get over her earnest gratitude and positivity.
No one says stuff like that!
we marveled, and I vowed if I were lucky enough to finally become a parent, I would.
Yep, I say.
Most of the time, I even mean it.
To which another mom responded, easy-breezy, as if it were obvious: Both things can be true.
Relief flooded my system like a dinnertime water spill.
Because both things are true.
Theres truth and value in it, and its fun.
It was hilarious and relatable and remains aspirational to this day.
And it is a privilege.
A privilege and a joy and a miracle.
And overwhelming and exhausting and tough.
Its also true I love being with my kids, even and sometimes especially during the evening routine.
(And then my heart explodes.)
Being with my kids is my deepest joy.
And sometimes they throw up in my hair.
We are allowed to laugh about and lament the latter.
Sometimes using the bathroom alone (sleeping baby notwithstanding) will be the best part of the day.
But sometimes itll be when you overhear one son tell the other, Youre mybest friend.
As a parent, there can be a lot of best parts and a lot of worst parts.
They can happen one after the other after the other, even somehow simultaneously.
(I cant explain the mechanics Im not a physicist.)
Last summer, the five of us were flying home to Florida after visiting my sisters family in Chicago.
We made it to the runway… and then sat there for four hours.
With three kids under the age of 6.
Due to weather, the route we eventually (finally!)
But was it that bad?
I mean, yes.
I chased a 2-year-old up and down the aisle 87 times.
We ate metric tons of junk food.
The kids watched more TV than they do in a week.
We got home after midnight.
No one fully melted down (not even me!).
I sat and watched, in awe they get to be mine.
Tortured by each hour of lost sleep for each child.
I had a cup of ice water dumped in my lap that seemed never to dry.
But I was also, somehow, content.
Proud of all of us for holding it together, thankful to have flexible, resilient, fun-loving kids.
So, how to tell the story?
(I will definitely be telling the story.)
This article originally appeared onHuffPost.
